This article is exclusively
for Heatmap Plus subscribers.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.

Sign In or Create an Account.
By continuing, you agree to the Terms of Service and acknowledge our Privacy Policy
Welcome to Heatmap
Thank you for registering with Heatmap. Climate change is one of the greatest challenges of our lives, a force reshaping our economy, our politics, and our culture. We hope to be your trusted, friendly, and insightful guide to that transformation. Please enjoy your free articles. You can check your profile here .
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Subscribe to get unlimited Access
Hey, you are out of free articles but you are only a few clicks away from full access. Subscribe below and take advantage of our introductory offer.
subscribe to get Unlimited access
Offer for a Heatmap News Unlimited Access subscription; please note that your subscription will renew automatically unless you cancel prior to renewal. Cancellation takes effect at the end of your current billing period. We will let you know in advance of any price changes. Taxes may apply. Offer terms are subject to change.
Create Your Account
Please Enter Your Password
Forgot your password?
Please enter the email address you use for your account so we can send you a link to reset your password:
How an embattled energy storage project in Acton, California, is threatening faster federal permits.

One hour north of Los Angeles, the small town of Acton is experiencing a battery energy storage buildout — and quickly becoming the must-watch frontline in the backlash against lithium-ion energy storage systems. The flashpoint: wildfires.
Like many parts of California, Acton has hot summers with heavy winds, putting it at elevated risk of the kind blaze that makes national headlines. Battery storage fires, while rare, are a unique threat, with relatively little data available about them to help regulators or the public understand the risk. People in Acton wondered: Would they really be safe if a wildfire engulfed a battery storage site, or if a battery failure sparked a new conflagration?
When L.A. County blessed the first battery energy storage system project in Acton last year, developers and local fire officials said they were doing everything in their power to ensure the batteries would meet safety standards. Residents were far from convinced.
“This will turn our community into industrial hell and it’ll erase us from the face of the Earth,” Jacqueline Ayer, a member of Acton’s town council, told me. Ayer is helping lead the local fight against the projects.
I’ve now spent more than a month researching the fight in Acton. In the process, I’ve learned how much — or little — we know about when battery energy storage and wildfires mix. We’ll get to that later in this story. To be honest, debunking battery fire risk wasn’t why I spent a month on Acton. It was what happened when the fears took hold.
Feeling they’d been failed by both the regulatory approval process and the court system, the Acton project’s opponents turned to their representative in Washington, House Republican Mike Garcia. Though Garcia can’t do anything to stop this particular project, he can severely hinder future ones: As Heatmap can exclusively report, after lobbying from Acton, Garcia inserted language into the annual funding bill for the Department of Energy that would block it from implementing a new rule designed to expedite permits for federally funded battery projects.
“What we’re hoping is that [with Garcia] being at the federal level, he’ll shed some light to the people at the top,” said Ruthie Brock of the activist group Acton Takes Action, “because if the top becomes informed, it’ll trickle down to local governments.”
This is why the Acton fight is so important — it demonstrates the risk of failing to obtain community buy-in, which can ricochet in ways no one intended. The political and media environments are quick to sensationalize the downsides of renewable energy, creating a tinderbox atmosphere in which small local fights can quickly become national ones.
On some level, a fight over battery fires going national was inevitable. Across the country, from New York to Washington state, communities are revolting against battery energy storage sites coming to their backyards. Often, those opposed cite the feared threat of fires or explosions.
Fires in battery energy storage systems, a.k.a. BESS, are quite rare. According to what data is available, the number of fires has stayed relatively flat even as deployment has grown drastically. There were fewer than 10 failure events in the U.S. in 2023, and there have been even fewer so far this year.
But when a fire does happen, experts say it can be quite difficult to put out. In some cases, there’s nothing a community can do other than let the blaze run.
“There’s a lack of consensus. There’s a lot of experts out there providing guidance, and that’s something we’re trying to work on with training throughout the country,” Victoria Hutchinson, an engineer with the Fire Protection Research Foundation, told me. “[It’ll] instill some fear in the meantime we figure out the best approach.”
Information on BESS and wildfires is even less available. Guillermo Rein, a professor of fire science and the editor-in-chief of the journal Fire Technology, told me the matter has not really been studied.
“When I say [BESS are] new, I mean really new,” Rein said. “We hardly know how it works when it gets [on] fire and we don’t have many technologies that are proven to work. We have technologies that we wish will work, but proven technologies that work are very rare. That means we have a new hazard we are struggling to understand and in the meantime, we don’t know how to protect against it.”
Los Angeles County approved Acton’s first battery storage system — Humidor, a 300 megawatt project by Hecate Energy — last summer through an expedited “ministerial” process, the local equivalent of a “categorical exclusion” under the National Environmental Policy Act. Ministerial reviews and categorical exclusions are used by regulators to skip the drawn out process of an environmental review because they can reasonably predict a lack of significant impact. Joseph Horvath, a spokesperson for L.A. County Planning, gave me a statement defending the approval and stating BESS projects must meet all local and state zoning and fire codes to receive a ministerial approval.
California had identified the Acton community back in 2021 as a potential site for energy storage to protect against future power shut offs. Acton made sense because it’s close to the SoCal Edison Vincent substation, making it well positioned to connect to the grid. There was also a real sense of urgency: To achieve its goal of 100% carbon-free electricity by 2045, the state estimates it will need to install a projected 52,000 megawatts or more of battery storage. Humidor is the first of what appears to be multiple projects being planned for the area, including two more Hecate facilities according to materials on the company’s website.
Convinced that a battery boom could mix poorly with extreme fire risk, and that the county moved far too fast to approve Humidor, Acton residents sued. The county, they argued, had little reason to conclude the facility would have an insignificant impact on the environment — so few BESS projects have been approved that the county used the standards from a different kind of project — an electrical substation — to draw that conclusion. L.A. County Planning told me they chose this comparison for reasons including the “purpose of BESS and its connection to the larger network for distributive purposes.”
Rein told me that at least when it comes to the fire risk, this isn’t an accurate comparison, and that there’s not actually enough data to claim such a facility would have an insignificant impact. “I would put great efforts into making sure this facility is safe,” he said. “They can’t just say, I met the regulation, I did enough. Because it’s a new hazard.”
Many of those in Acton opposed to the project believe the approval was rushed, and claim that little information was made available to the public as it was going through the county’s process. Furious residents have told county planners that the Acton town council was not notified in advance that an approval was on its way. They testified before the county board of supervisors that Hecate held only a single public meeting to discuss what it intended to build, with little notice given to potentially concerned citizens.
In my experience as a journalist reporting on large energy projects with serious community impacts, transparency is key to getting local buy-in to build a project. For years I covered the mining industry, where innumerable decades of toxic waste spills and labor scandals have forced companies to really innovate and spend serious dough on obtaining “social license to operate,” a term developers and investors use to describe acceptance to a company’s business practices.
This, of course, differs from the YIMBY school of thought that companies and governments should eschew frustrated municipalities to pursue the overriding net good of climate action. There are certainly merits to this argument, especially when it comes to communities that won’t take yes for an answer, and we’ll be exploring case studies supporting that view in future editions of The Fight.
I’m on the fence about whether Acton is one of those cases, though. Ayer, an environmental engineer by trade, told me she supports decarbonization and wants to see climate action happen. She just wants to feel assured the technology is safe.
If it wasn’t a lithium-ion battery storage facility “I would feel comfortable,” she said. “We will shoulder some of the weight. But it isn’t right that we shoulder all of the weight.”
When I tried to talk to Hecate about Acton’s wildfire concerns and how the company had engaged with the community, a company spokesperson, Bobby Howard, declined to make anyone available for an interview citing “ongoing litigation related to the subject.” Howard provided a factbook that said only that Humidor would “meet or exceed” local and state fire codes — without specifying which codes — and detailed some of the outreach the company did, including the public meeting as well as mailers to “thousands of individuals throughout the greater Los Angeles area, including civically engaged individuals throughout Acton.”
Howard declined to answer questions requesting more information about the company’s public outreach and wildfire planning. He did tell the Los Angeles Times earlier this year that Humidor would have “seismic bracing, safety zones around the perimeter, substantial setbacks from parcel boundaries, gravel breaks and a masonry wall around the facility.”
Stanford University senior research scholar and legal energy expert Michael Wara explained to me that in cases like these, having buy-in from the community is important to avoiding litigation and social blowback. “That is losing,” Wara said. “You have not served your client if you end up in litigation.”
“Having a process by which people are informed about a project and have an opportunity to provide input is important for buy-in for all kinds of projects related to the energy transition if you want to build in a democratic society,” he said. “Is it really the fire risk the community is concerned about?”
When it comes to the Acton battery fight, it’s the fears of fire that scare me the most, not the fire itself.
I sought reasons to be optimistic about putting battery energy storage in areas like Acton that are prone to wildfire because, well, California is essentially one big fire risk zone. James Campbell, a wildfire policy expert at the Federation of American Scientists, told me that battery energy storage decreases net wildfire risk compared to gas storage tanks and pipelines. “If we consider the whole-climate trade-offs, battery systems are much safer,” he said.
On its end, Hecate claimed in a letter to the L.A. County Board of Supervisors that a BESS fire has never traveled off-site, and that because the fires are fueled by flammable gasses, there is minimal risk of embers traveling elsewhere and igniting grass or bushes. The company pointed me to this letter when I reached out for comment.
“Nothing about fire risk mitigation is about certainty. It’s more, risk mitigation and fire is kind of like wearing a seatbelt,” Wara told me. “If you’re going 120 miles an hour down the highway and you get in a high-speed collision, your seatbelt will not save you. [But] there’s rapid advances in how these systems work.”
In the end, he added, meeting California’s carbon emissions targets will “probably mean building somewhere that there is non-trivial wildfire risk.”
What’s happening to offshore wind should be a cautionary tale for developers considering whether sinking time and money into community relations is really worth it: Last year, coastal fishermen and beach town mayors in New Jersey joined forces with fossil fuel funding and right-wing agitators to foment a conspiracy-infused campaign against offshore wind that has truly rattled the future of the industry.
Part of that offshore wind backlash grew out of New Jersey Republicans in Congress using the pulpit of their offices and filing amendments to legislation. As Garcia takes up Acton’s cause, I do wonder whether battery energy storage might be next. November’s election makes it less likely his language hindering expedited approvals for BESS projects will make it into the final funding bill, and Garcia’s office did not respond to requests to discuss its prospects.
But regardless, it’s an ember that could become a fire of its own.
Log in
To continue reading, log in to your account.
Create a Free Account
To unlock more free articles, please create a free account.
A conversation with Emma Uridge of the Kansas Health Institute.
This week’s conversation is with Emma Uridge, analyst with the Kansas Health Institute. Uridge spent copious hours analyzing state and local laws on data center development to best understand how policymakers are responding to the potential environmental public health impacts of large AI infrastructure, including power and water. The report, which came out this week, also goes in depth into those health impacts. I reached out to her to discuss what she sees as must-watch territory for our readers on this emerging policy arena.
Our conversation was lightly edited for clarity.
What is actually being done on policy when it comes to data centers — beyond moratoria of course?
So first I’d like to just talk about the point of moratoria. It’s helpful to talk about how these policies emerge in the first place. One area where moratoria are helpful is when a data center is proposed but the county has no approach for how they’d like to potentially regulate them. That’s temporary, most of the time. It lets local governments conduct research on the various impacts and also negotiate community benefits, ones that can mitigate any potential negative impacts — like Lancaster Pennsylvania, which instituted a community benefit agreement that maximized the potential benefits of development while mitigating what large data centers can do. That agreement looked at capping municipal water use at 20,000 gallons per day and requiring 100% clean energy. It had financial penalties for non-compliance. The company also committed $20 million to their local economic development and clean energy fund. There are ways to negotiate with developers.
We also see amendments to existing zoning. Data center proposals are increasingly popping up in rural areas, many of which are unzoned, so there’s no way a county can negotiate unless there’s a moratorium in place.
Other policy solutions include different performance standards or requiring on-site renewable energy, like what Jefferson County, Missouri, looked at. Also setback requirements, mandatory noise buffers, ending by-right zoning.
Where are local governments getting ideas for regulating data centers?
A lot of the technical information comes from developers. That can in cases be seen as a biased source of information. I wouldn’t say there’s a dedicated group providing assistance to local governments when a project is proposed — which is a similar story to wind industry development, where we have only a handful of consultants who provide technical advice. It can be really helpful to get a multi-disciplinary approach to hearing information. It can be helpful to have the utility commission, public health folks, those in academia, as well as the developer.
As of right now, especially in rural areas, local governments have a hard task of balancing pushback while getting the most accurate, evidence-based, neutral information to make decisions. That balance can be contentious.
What is the federal government doing on data center policy? How is the Trump administration approaching it?
A few things there. In the early days, the drive was for AI expansion and to be competitive with foreign adversaries. Now due to the amount of public pushback in red and blue localities and a more cautious approach.
I’m not seeing a lot of actual policy movement at this time.
I know the EPA is looking at the chemicals used in cooling data centers because when that water is cycled through the system, some of it is discharged into the water system, so they’re looking at the Toxic Substances and Control Act for monitoring that.
How much of an impact does this minimal federal role have on industry behavior?
Y’know, this isn’t specific to data centers. This is true for all kinds of large-scale development: there’s a need to require some sort of federal monitoring and regulation.
That’s where I see an emerging role for public health. At the federal level, there could be policy movement towards requiring some sort of environmental monitoring at data centers to make sure they’re operating responsibility. Looking at specific water use relative to water availability and what happens when there’s a time of severe, persistent drought. With air quality too — we’ve seen areas where the grid isn’t as reliable so their diesel generators are kicking on more and affecting air quality for residents.
We’re just not seeing all of that right now. We need corporate disclosure.
What do you see as the most important public health impacts from data center development?
It varies by localities. The most discussed obviously is water usage. One thing I’d note about my conversations with folks enthusiastic around emerging tech is, there are still questions that need to be asked about the capacity of localities to support a data center. Like a small town in Kansas may only be using 40% of their water for their utility needs. If a data center came online, how much of that water goes to the data center?
One area underexplored within the public health discipline is energy poverty and energy security. The ability of a household to meet the needs of everything energy provides in our lives. It’s known we have an aging electric grid but we’re not talking enough about large-scale blackouts when the grid is not sufficient to support some of these new data centers.
Plus more of the week’s big development fights.
1. Laramie County, Wyoming — Meta is fighting the fine it received in the Cheyenne data center water pollution controversy, and the conflict between the tech giant and the city’s small board of public utilities is continuing to spill out into the public.
2. Niagara County, New York — This county just rejected a solar project’s highway work permits in a show of retaliation against the state’s Office of Renewable Energy Siting.
3. Barron County, Wisconsin — The anti-solar protest is the new campaign stop in deep red Wisconsin.
4. Chesapeake, Virginia — A large battery storage project on the Virginia coastline is on the rocks amidst rampant local opposition.
5. Lewis County, West Virginia — West Virginia is now a key battleground in the fight over transmission, as a line spanning all of West Virginia and Maryland — and cutting through Data Center Alley in Virginia — causes compounding consternation.
The local government of Boulder City, Nevada had previously rejected a proposal for the computing facility, which would draw power from the existing electricity supply.
The U.S. government for the first time approved a data center on federal lands. What the Trump administration is pitching as a demonstration of bureaucratic speed and ambition in the era of artificial intelligence, however, is turning into the same sort of mysterious backroom deal that’s upsetting other communities.
On Monday, the Bureau of Land Management announced that it would allow a large AI data center to be built on a plot of federal land technically within the limits of Boulder City, Nevada. The approval was initially granted as a right-of-way in 2023 for the second phase of a solar project known as Townsite Solar, to be built by a joint venture between Skylar Opportunities LLC, a subsidiary of Houston energy trader Bill Perkins’ investment firm, and renewables developer Arevon. (Ironically, Perkins also just launched an ETF to profit from higher electricity demand.)
Earlier this year, the LLC overseeing the project — itself named Townsite Solar 2 — notified the city that it would change tack and instead construct a large data center on the site. There would be no new power generation installed — rather, the facility would hook up directly to an existing substation. This time, the backlash was immediate and fierce, and led Boulder City’s planning commission to reject the data center within city limits.
Quietly, Townsite Solar 2 had prepared a backup plan: The project would shift to federal land that was already approved to use for the second phase of the solar farm. It wasn’t until early July that the Boulder City government and its residents learned that BLM had given Townsite Solar 2 permission to advance the data center without any new public hearings or comment periods. According to BLM, the data center would be essentially like a solar farm, so it wouldn’t require any new review.
“The BLM concluded that the new proposed action — a data center — is essentially the same,” city government attorney Brittany Walker told the Boulder City council at a July 14 public hearing. “This is a departure from previous precedent and procedure as the BLM essentially sweepingly approved a new land use without following processes in federal law.”
Boulder City is now fighting the federal assessment. Walker claimed at the July 14 hearing they weren’t notified ahead of time that Townsite Solar 2 would be so quickly approved and built on this parcel of federal acreage, a form of government-to-government communication often required under federal land use planning statutes.
Mystery continues to swirl around what BLM did here — and how Townsite Solar 2 got the agency to do it.
Nada Culver, who served as No. 2 at BLM under the Biden administration, told me that BLM had veered from the usual course of business in approving this data center. Consulting local governments before a decision is made “sits at the heart” of the Federal Land Management and Policy Act, which is the primary statute governing BLM’s land use decision-making, she said. Both that law and the National Environmental Policy Act are “supposed to involve the government actually looking at environmental impacts and sharing them. so it’s not responsible or arguably even legal for the BLM to say, ‘We aren’t going to look at those impacts or share them with the public,” she added.
Boulder City officials have said this is the first major data center approval on federal lands, to their knowledge. Culver told me she believed that to be true, and hadn’t heard of such a thing happening before. “This isn’t a niche BLM issue, so to try and say this is just another use when we’re all surrounded with this loud discussion at the national level about data centers is particularly stark.”
Patrick Donnelly of the Center for Biological Diversity told me his organization and the Sierra Club, another legacy conservation group, are planning a separate legal challenge, one they say is intended to stop more such swaps from happening. Donnelly noted that at least two more data center projects — both powered by on-site gas — are poised to start the federal permitting process at any moment, according to the BLM’s online materials.
“This is the first one, and it’s going to set the stage for these things on public lands, and we can’t let this happen,” he told me.
The timing of this fight couldn’t be worse for the Trump White House, as officials try to pivot towards a “feel your pain” message ahead of the 2026 midterm elections. On Thursday, utilities and data center developers joined Trump cabinet officials at the Environmental Protection Agency for a joint event promoting the administration’s Ratepayer Protection Pledge, a voluntary set of industry practices geared toward ensuring the cost of AI infrastructure isn’t borne by those living near it.
With the BLM’s decision to advance the data center on federal land, Boulder City will lose an estimated $2.3 million in annual leasing and taxation revenue that it would’ve received if the project were built on city land, according to the Las Vegas Review-Journal. If the project is built on BLM land, Boulder City officials have said they’ll still be forced to front the cost for water and sewage hookup to the facility, as well as road maintenance.
Townsite Solar 2 told me in an unattributed statement that it wants Boulder City “to receive the greatest possible revenue and contribution benefits from the project, regardless of siting on federally-owned or city-owned land.”
“TS2 wants the project to provide meaningful, measurable benefits for Boulder City residents, local businesses, and the broader community. Our goal is to develop a responsible, sustainable project that Boulder City can be proud of and that can serve as a national model.”
The people I talked to for this story were largely flummoxed at BLM’s determination that the data center would be “essentially like” the solar farm that was approved in 2023. “These are two unrelated projects,” Culver told me. “I find it very hard to see how this would not trigger the need for a new analysis or public engagement.”
BLM’s logic made my head hurt, too. Among other things, the agency said “both proposals will use the exact same location, same acreage, and same perimeter,” and “both are proposals for industrial uses that will operationalize cutting-edge technologies that are predominantly electrical and solid state in nature.” The agency also claimed the data center was just like the solar farm because construction would take approximately the same amount of time, and would involve facilities and changes that “are visually geometric and less than 30 feet in height.”
You could describe a data center this way, but you could also describe any other number of things this way: a grocery store, a factory, a rollercoaster.
When I asked BLM for comment, a spokesperson simply sent me back the text used in the press release announcing Townsite Solar 2’s data center approval. A press representative for Townsite Solar 2 declined to provide details about who handled government affairs for the data center project, except to say that it hadn’t hired any federal lobbyists.
Some of Trump’s loudest critics told me they think this deal happened because Arevon, a joint partner described as a key financier in the project’s application with Boulder City, hired lobbyists with The Bernhardt Group, a government relations firm created last year by former Trump Interior Secretary David Bernhardt. Arevon hired the firm around the same time Townsite Solar 2 initiated the process to use the federal land for the data center, according to federal disclosures.
I have a history with Bernhardt. After leaving the Trump administration in 2021, Bernhardt went on to run the Trumpworld think tank America First Policy Institute and released a tell-all book, You Report to Me, that called for the bureaucracy to stand down against — as he put it to me — “the interests of the executive.” (I interviewed him around the time of its publication, after which he gave me an unsolicited copy of the book that I keep at my bedside as a form of dark humor.)
These days Bernhardt’s firm represents oil interests, including energy companies, mining, and large-scale agricultural interests that use lots of water (think: almonds). But it’s also pitching itself to the AI energy commentariat. In May, the former Interior secretary authored an op-ed in The Washington Examiner calling for rapid investment in U.S. artificial intelligence infrastructure. He then took to right-wing TV network Newsmax to promote the column, arguing that people fighting to stop data centers were just trying to “oppose the president’s vision for energy dominance.”
It would be easy to point at these federal disclosures and online comments and claim this bizarre data center land use swap is the work of a familiar Trump-era boogeyan. Except Arevon was effusive to me in saying that is not what happened here. In a statement, the company said that it’s a passive member of the joint venture, holds less than 25% ownership stake, and has “not directly hired consultants or lobbyists for this project.”
I didn’t get a response from Overwatch, a data center engineering and design firm contracted to help with the project. Overwatch does have a director of government affairs, but their hire was announced months after the application would have been submitted to BLM.
This leaves us sleuths to conclude the likeliest reason this happened is also the most obvious one: Trump just wants data centers on federal lands, and this was a way to make that happen. What happens next will have enormous implications for the future of data center development and federal land use in the United States, especially if more companies facing federal permit stonewalling seek to turn their solar farm permits into permission to build AI infrastructure.